A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews.
CH 12
Christine strode down the carpeted hallway and felt as though she was moving very slowly. The hotel smell was there again; she felt a choke. Her surroundings were blurry and she thought vaguely that this was as it should be.
She went down a flight of stairs and banged her heel on the edge of a molding and the ache was sharp so she walked on the toes of that foot until it faded. With a jerk, she pushed open the door to the pool and went a few steps only to see the wrought iron fence surrounding it and realize she'd forgot her key card. Christine lifted her hands to the gate and pushed it wishfully. Her fingers trembled as they lowered.
Just then, a dripping child ran towards and pushed the gate open for her. He grinned and stepped back and she looked down at him, eyes watering and mouth slowly shaking open in an expression of both shock and gratitude and sadness. She nodded to him and he ran off.
She walked slowly across the rocky surface surrounding the pool and pushed the steamy glass door at its other end open and went out. Wet, warm Louisiana air met her; the scent of chlorine; and petunias, somewhere. A hot tub sat unoccupied and placid beside a large glass window facing the pool. Deck chairs were spread evenly across the thick grass once the rocky paving ended, and Christine slipped between them, across the dewy lawn, to a similar iron fence surrounding this little patch; and she gazed out on the parking lot and then the city lights beyond, the sweep of headlights in the distance.
You are alone.
The glass door swept shut behind her. She gazed down at the fence and stiffened. Footsteps approached, swishing across the grass. Christine slowly straightened and turned around.
Erik looked surprised to see her face him. He paused mid-step. He carefully set the other foot down. He stood just past the end of the paving, partially shadowed by a closed beach umbrella. "I saw you come out here."
"How?" Christine breathed the word in.
"My window."
She turned around to the parking lot.
"It overlooks…"
"Oh."
Erik stepped forwards so quietly she was only aware of him next beside her. She slowly slid her gaze to the side, up to him. He was clutching the bars of the fence and staring straight ahead. She stepped to the left, away from him. He looked down at her then, brow furrowed, and leaned back and let go of the fence.
Maybe it's not true.
She turned her face up to Erik, turned her shoulders toward him. Inspected his face as he watched her.
"Thanks for saying hello to me in the room," she remarked acidly.
Erik blinked. "I-"
Christine was going to say something to him, ask him, say something passive-aggressive like 'So, when's my next DLS lesson, anyway? They've really not been as regular as you said they would, and I thought I'd not have them on the weekends, so let's change it up, can we? That'd be great. Thanks.' She opened her mouth to do so, though, and all the words came crashing into a pile at the back of her throat. She swallowed down the lump. She couldn't do it.
She felt small and weak and squished. She tried again but her mouth didn't even open this time. I can't do it. I just can't do it right now.
Maybe he's wrong.
"Why are you up so late?" she asked curtly.
"Raoul," Erik answered.
Me too. Or maybe you.
"Mm," Christine looked down. Why is it like this? She thought of her comfort with him, of the warmth and hardness of his shoulder beneath her cheek as she curled on his couch—No.
"Well. I'm pretty tired; I think I'll go to bed now. 'Night." She turned and looked up at him boldly, briefly, then whisked away and toward the door.
Erik stood, utterly confused and disjointed, in the same place, and Christine ached because she knew his confusion without turning to see it, and she felt so angry that he truly had no qualms of conscience, because that made it seem like she was making a big deal out of nothing; and it was so shameful to feel such betrayal over nothing.
Christine quietly opened the door to the hotel room. It was dim and still. Raoul wasn't there; Megan and Aaron sat together on one of the queen beds and the TV played at a murmur. They were staring straight ahead in heavy silence.
Megan sat up and leaned forward, crisscrossed her legs when Christine entered. "Christine," she called softly.
Christine brushed her hair from her face and took a shallow breath. "It's okay," she rushed. "I, um, I just talked to him. To Erik. It's all fine. It's okay." And she put on a cheerful smile and shrugged. "All good."
"You did?" Megan asked slowly, doubtfully, her hand creeping across the bedspread to mute the TV. Aaron was watching carefully beside her. "Well, I," she scratched her chin. "Christine, I'm so sorry. I don't know what Raoul's problem—I'm just so sorry. What a fucker. But you—you got it all sorted out with Erik? Really?"
"Ohh…" Christine waved a hand and this easy nonchalance was like something eating her. She felt herself dissolving. Pictured a little dinosaur chewing her from the inside out and closed her eyes briefly, and it was all she could do to not snort with disbelief. "Yeah." And then the stroke of genius she knew would convince Megan: "I mean, as much as you can. You know. It's Erik." Christine unconsciously parroted Megan's words from the day Erik first drove her around.
Megan kind of smirked sadly and leaned back. Aaron was watching the two of them intently. "Christine. I'm really sorry, too, girl. I hope you don't let that douche ruin the rest of your time here. He's really a loose cannon when he's stressed."
"Yeah," Megan caught on, "Yeah, seriously—One time he-"
Christine knew what this was and swallowed. It was the kind of gossip that springs up to soothe the wounded, to make it seem like the attack was merely force of habit of the attacker and therefore unpreventable—no fault of the victim's—whilst also passively striking back in a low, cowardly way. But Christine knew better and had no patience for tricking herself into believing all was Raoul's fault.
Erik lied to her and Raoul's tactlessness could not change that fact.
He took advantage of me when all I wanted was a friend. She recoiled from her hurt and foolishness and cast for other synonyms and explanations.
Why did he? Why? And who else knows? Am I a private joke? Why tell someone you love them—and I knew he didn't, but he insisted—why do that and lie to them over something stupid like this? He could've just asked me for help, he could've…
"I'm gonna take a shower," Christine interrupted stridently. Megan looked startled. "I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. G'night."
When she came out of the bathroom the lights were off. Megan was asleep on the far queen and Aaron on the other. Christine crept to the far bed and carefully slipped beneath the blankets, lying on the edge of the mattress. She closed her eyes and everything felt hard.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Christine… Get up. I brought you a donut."
Christine stirred under her sheet and rubbed her cheek against the pillow. "Mm," she grunted. "Okay." She put one arm over her eyes.
She heard Megan giggle over by the bathroom. Rubbed her eyes. Realized Aaron had spoken earlier as she heard him walk to the counter by the sink and pour something into a cup. "There's coffee," he called enticingly and Megan laughed again.
"Ughh…" Christine groaned again and slowly removed her arm from her eyes, squinting. She felt light and peaceful for a moment. Isn't there something, though— Her heart sunk shallowly. But there was a small relief, because sleep had lessened much of the burden of hurt from last night. The weight of her bones wasn't quite as heavy. Just wait and see. Wait and see. You're an engineer, aren't you? There's always more to the story.
Slowly she stood and stumbled into the bathroom and changed. She came out and there was a steamy cup of black coffee and cheap donut awaiting her, Megan applying mascara in the mirror. Christine descended on the coffee.
Megan's reflection looked over at her. "Raoul's already at the conference, just bee-tee-dubs."
"Oh. Okay." Christine sat down on the edge of the other bed and watched Megan in the mirror. "What was his problem—like why did he say that?"
Megan looked down and swirled her mascara brush in the tube. "When he's unhappy he wants the world to be."
"Oh." Christine wasn't sure how to respond to that. She wanted to press for more information but didn't want to look like she cared or expose that she hadn't really talked to Erik.
The conference was taking place in another hotel, this one huge and fancy and old. After driving frustrated circles around the block and trying to get into a parking garage labeled 'Hotel Guests Only', Aaron telling Megan to "Use the valet, dammit" and Megan arguing that they weren't hotel guests but normal people so where the shit was the normal parking, she gave in and pulled up outside the white paneled entrance of the hotel. A livery-clad valet strode forward to meet them.
"Good morning," he said smoothly. He handed Megan a valet ticket and whistled through his teeth and another valet ran up and slipped into the car.
"Wow," Megan looked stunned as her car drove off. "Well."
Inside the hotel was beautiful. It opened to an expanse of mirror-like marble tile and sparkling chandeliers, the check in desk far across the floor. Christine wished she wore heels so she could click across the marble. Great bouquets were set atop circular old-fashioned couches, tall ceilings and pillars ornately carved and brocaded. She was reminded of stories of Anastasia.
"Whoa," Aaron breathed. "This is incredible."
They went up to the desk. A petite receptionist looked up. "Are you here for the National Science Foundation Strides in Engineering conference?"
"Um, yes, we are," Megan looked around. "Where do we go?"
"Y'all can follow me," the receptionist slipped out from behind the counter. They went down a sloping carpeted hallway, down several steps, to a conference room that spread brightly like a ballroom in front of them. A few people in suits wandered, coffee and platters of fruit scattered on red-clothed tables throughout. Huge chandeliers refracted chunks of light and paintings hung on the white walls. "Right through those double doors," the woman pointed across the room.
"Thank you," Aaron said dazedly.
"Wow," Megan looked around. "God, I wish I'd known this was so…"
"Fancy?" Christine supplied. "Seriously. I feel so underdressed. This is so amazing though. When I'm rich I'm staying here… I never thought I'd get to be somewhere like this."
They started across the carpet, exclaiming over every new detail. One double door was propped open and they slipped through to an equally posh room with chairs lining the carpet. Raoul stood at the front beside a projector screen, hunched over his laptop nervously. Erik was beside him, hands in his pockets, calmly talking to a shorter dark-haired man in a suit. Christine looked down at the ground.
People—all in suits and mostly men—began to trickle in. Aaron and Megan took seats in the back row and Christine followed suit, raising her eyebrows quizzically. "This way we can sneak out and explore once Raoul starts," Megan nudged her. "I mean, how often do you get to be in a place like this? And we all know Raoul's spiel, plus he only needs moral support in the beginning." And she waved cheerfully at her boyfriend. Raoul pensively raised a hand back.
"Mm." Christine couldn't help but smirk. "Sounds good to me." She leaned against the seat. Hesitantly, her eyes skittered about. Slowed to Erik. He and his friend had moved away from Raoul and stood in the back corner, and Erik seemed to be listening, nodding occasionally, but his expression looked skeptical and somewhat cold. Christine realized the shorter man was his friend, Nadir, of the crappy house and saggy sofa and kind but pressing ways. She wondered what he was doing here. She looked away before Erik sensed her eyes.
After a time, the room was nearly full and Raoul began. He sounded nervous at first but grew surer, a clean-cut figure gesturing at the slides projected behind him. One by one Christine, Megan, and Aaron slipped out.
At a safe distance from the door Aaron chuckled and held up a hand. Christine high-fived it. They began exploring as a group but separated with time; Christine lingered in the hotel's empty restaurant. Its bar was circular and made to look like a real carousel, which apparently rotated every fifteen minutes. She ghosted a hand down a small horse's smooth fiberglass face. Suddenly she stopped. Looked behind her. All was quiet, the restaurant not yet open. Her ponytail slapped away the trickle up her spine.
Half-heartedly she attempted to catch up with Aaron, striding out of the restaurant and down the hallway to her right. Then she saw a door left open, presumably for housekeeping. She paused outside.
The room was elegant and glorious. She peered over her shoulder. The hallway was empty. She went in. "Hello? Is it okay if I look around?" No answer.
At the other side of the space, floor length lavender curtains were pulled back, showing a glass-paneled door to a wrought iron balcony. Covered in tiny circular glass panels, the door seemed to glitter and Christine drifted towards it. Her uncertain fingers lifted. Then she realized it was merely the buildings, shimmering with heat, hunched in the distance. Money can't make everything into jewels. She turned around contemplatively. A large four-poster bed, canopy parted at one side, sat in the corner. Christine ran her fingers down one of its smooth oak posts longingly.
To her right was a mirrored door and Christine slowly pushed it open. She entered in a sitting room, another chandelier hanging at its center, old-fashioned looking fireplace at the far end. Everything was so detailed—the furniture old-looking but new, the wallpaper, the gas lamp sconces on the walls. Christine felt a hunger to live years ago, or have enough money to live like it was years ago now.
She sighed wistfully and made her way out. At the main doorway, she tipped her chin over her shoulder, searching for the warmth in discovery she'd felt last night, but it was gone.
"Breaking and entering now, are we?"
Christine gasped and jumped and whirled around. She put one hand over her throat. Erik smiled warmly, but there was something fragile at the back of his eyes.
"Ohh," she exhaled. "Hi. You startled me." Watched the carpet.
Erik's feet slipped by her and across the room.
"This isn't… your room, is it?" Christine looked up tentatively.
"No," Erik replied, and pulled open the door to the balcony and slipped out.
What?
She watched Erik's back as he leaned against the balustrade, dress jacket stretched over his broad but slim shoulders. With a sudden shuddery breath, she went to the balcony and stood beside him but not too close.
HIs profile was blank. Visible eyebrow lowered. Voices and cars sounded from the street two stories down.
"Don't you have something to say?" Erik asked suddenly. The shell of his voice was nonchalant; Christine swallowed at the barb underneath.
She glanced to him. He looked over at her expectantly. She turned back to gaze at New Orleans.
"Why aren't you watching Raoul?" she asked suddenly.
"I could ask the same," he replied.
"How did you find me in here?"
"I missed you."
Christine bit the inside of her cheek. Stared down at the metal railing. Something tried to grasp her, long, wispy fingers curling about the glass door, but the mist of its form evaporated in the heat.
"It's too hot," she said, and turned around and pushed open the glass door.
Erik followed her and his fingers hooked and caught around her hanging limp ones. She faced him.
"Don't—We can't stay in here."
"So?" Erik's voice was matter-of-fact.
Why did you lie to me.
Why am I so disappointed by it…?
Just… I thought you and Dr. Kelly were agreeing I was smart enough to do more than my baby project shit. I thought you wanted to help me because I was worth it, because I was smart enough to do real engineering things, not mix the same solution all day long…
But it was all about you instead.
Christine, don't be selfish…
Oh, but I'm so disappointed. I thought people here finally found me worthwhile, not a burden or an idiot compared to them.
And really you were just too shy to ask me out.
What if this is all there is? Mixing solutions really is what most engineers do, while only a select few get to take strides and help people and make a difference…?
Maybe it's not true. Maybe it's not.
If no one thinks you're smart and capable and useful, how do you know you are? Christine swallowed and closed her eyelids hard.
"You're avoiding me."
She opened her eyes. "You've been gone for two weeks."
"Christine…"
"What?" she snapped, jerked her eyes up to his. "What?"
Erik seemed to flinch beneath his skin. Be cautious, her father whispered, so quiet all it did was raise the hair on her arms. She mistook it for a breeze.
"I thought—You spent the night with me."
In the face of his dishonest manipulation of her attention, his honest clinging seemed to drag her down all the more. Christine felt she'd been blind. She wanted to shake and kick him off until she was free of his secret quicksand.
"Erik," she said with carefully controlled anger, "I don't know what you want from me. I'm leaving. This isn't some—" she bit her tongue and tried to tell a white lie. "I don't want to get too attached."
"Don't fucking patronize me," Erik spat. "We both know you're not worried."
"Then don't exaggerate," Christine bit.
"I never have," he said coldly. "I mean everything I say. You have no idea what you're talking about."
Christine closed her eyes. Why are you bothering? In the middle of her anger, her humiliation and confusion still clouded. "Fine," she shrugged tightly. "Yeah. Right. Well. I'm hungry and I'm done arguing over nothing with you."
"Oh my God," Erik muttered under his breath. "Nothing?!"
Christine's spine stiffened. She walked out on feet that felt bound. Quickly, then down the hallway, then she let her hands shake, her stomach began to quiver in her ribs, and she strode faster, silence on the heavy carpet, fleeing from her expectation of Erik's pursuit. But he did nothing; the silence was choking; her fear only fluttered and grew in her throat, every moment expecting him; and she suspected it would have been a relief had he actually followed.
Then the cavern of her brain clasped a thought within its folds and alarm traced her spine.
I thought you didn't care enough to be this upset.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Raoul never said anything to Christine; when Aaron and Megan greeted him after his presentation she hung back, but at the apparent ease between the three she stepped forward and it was like nothing had ever happened. Maybe it should have seemed strange, but Christine had experienced this dynamic before and simply felt another curdle of disappointment.
It was the mark of something ugly, she thought disdainfully, when people ignored suffering to maintain false peace.
Either Raoul was the problem, and bringing up his accusation would only cause more trouble; or Megan and Aaron were, and were both more willing to endure Christine's suffering than the awkwardness engendered by confrontation.
Raoul turned to talk to an older man and Christine felt Megan's arm slip about her shoulders and pull her closer. Her eyes knew. Christine wished she had a sister. She realized the former explanation was the correct one; awkwardly leaned her head against Megan's shoulder.
I could do it, she thought sleepily, Confront Raoul myself and find out what the hell. But she realized too that only Erik could answer what she really wanted to know, and therefore it wasn't worth it to her, either.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
On that Saturday evening, Christine was grateful to return to her empty apartment. She biked to the grocery and got supplies for stir-fry and a bag of Hershey's chocolate. Perfect.
She was waiting in line and scrolling through emails on her phone when someone nudged her.
"Honey. That your T.P.?"
Her package of toilet paper had fallen out of her cart somehow and was sitting on the ground at the back of the line. "Oh! Yes, thank you, I really need that." Christine blushed slightly. Went to retrieve it. When she returned, she squinted surreptitiously at the lady who'd spoken to her. She was short and plump and blonde. "Don't you work at the research center…?"
"Yes I do!" the lady exclaimed. "I remember you! Christine, isn't it?"
"Yeah!" Christine smiled warmly. "Antoinette… right?"
"Yes ma'am," Antoinette started unloading her things on the conveyer belt as the attendant began scanning Christine's. "You never did tell me what you're workin' on, girl."
"Oh, I'm in Dr. Kelly's lab. I'm an intern."
"Are you," Antoinette looked up interestedly. "Most of the other ones are at the main campus in Baton Rouge. What're you doin' out here?"
"Um…" Christine was at a loss on that one. "I don't know, really." She laughed.
"Well. Lafayette's better anyway. You must know my daughter Meg."
"Oh! Yeah, I just went to New Orleans with her."
Antoinette seemed to frown, but it was so brief, and Christine looked away to tell the attendant how many bagels were in her paper bag, and when she looked back Antoinette had the alert, sparking look in her eyes that seemed constant.
"And did you enjoy N'Awlins?"
"Yer-rss…" Christine swiped her debit card and didn't look up. "It was very interesting to be there." She didn't see how intensely Antoinette watched her.
"And I suppose you must know Erik Troucheau, then?"
"Oh," Christine's head twitched, then more cautiously turned, but Antoinette seemed to be searching through her purse. "Yeah." She began combining things in the paper bags in her cart, lingering at the back of the register.
"He can be a difficult man."
Christine was so conflicted and bottled up that she didn't consider what an odd statement this was. "Yes! He can! But Megan said he was an old friend of your family, you must be used to it?"
"Ohh," Antoinette seemed to sigh. "No. Not particularly." She glanced over as Christine pulled her helmet from her backpack. "Dear! It's going to rain, if you're gonna bike you better get a move on."
Christine shifted reluctantly. Not really to which? Being an old friend or used to it? "Mm… Yeah. Well, it was good seeing you." She smiled.
"Same to you, honey. You just drop by my office in Middleton Hall whenever. If… If you need to." Her face looked serious suddenly, blue eyes sharp.
Christine nodded slowly, thoughtful, then smiled and waved and whirled out. Okay.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She dreamt she was on the edge of a castle, a parapet; she was anxious and waiting, but pretending not to be. She stuck her arms out like wings and felt the wind sigh between her fingers.
And then she was on a grassy plateau somewhere else and there were ruins of a castle about her, beautiful and lingering and soft. Erik came toward her from the side, across the plateau, and she watched him from the corner of her eye but didn't turn toward him, still waiting, still uncertain, afraid of the infliction of pain. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest and Christine clutched his wrists as they crossed her waist.
It felt so real; he felt so close; she half-awoke and thought, That's what he would do. That's exactly what. He's real.
He cradled her to him and she felt so safe and warm and happy, snuggled in her sheet sleeping bag.
"I always want you," he said.
"Don't," she said.
He kissed her and the warmth was so comfortable and perfect but he pulled back and his mask was gone and the other half of his face was a skull, its bone holey and pitching and covered in bumps, growths like cauliflower, and the only live thing was his yellow eye, bulging and angry in its repulsiveness and watching from the dark eye socket. The mask was on the other side.
Christine was petrified and frozen. Her fingers still clasped his arms as terror reared.
He leaned in and spoke. "You don't know me, either." She knew he meant her prejudice of his love.
And it was so exactly something she expected him to say that the warmth returned and his face returned to how it always was and she kissed him with longing comfort—longing because she wanted to be simply at ease forever and comfort because the mind cannot recall pain and the real recollection of Erik's kisses caused too much sorrow for her sleeping memory.
Something got through, though, because tears leaked cold in her sleep.
Please leave your thoughts, my loves!